https://www.alcoa.com/building/en/news/news_items/leaf_guard.asp
Check these out Don. Much better system than gutter helmet. Can also be installed retroactively.
We have them and love them.
D-League
- Thread starter Wildcat Droppings
- Start date
Check these out Don. Much better system than gutter helmet. Can also be installed retroactively.
We have them and love them.
Animals are said to look somewhat like their owners...Captain forehead, do you have a whale pet?
do you own an airplane?
Doo Wop is not Italian Music.
This side of my garage is done and my fence project is done as well. One more side to paint and that paint roller and brush can **** off! Landscape lights I made a few years back, lights up blue led at night..
This side of my garage is done and my fence project is done as well. One more side to paint and that paint roller and brush can **** off! Landscape lights I made a few years back, lights up blue led at night..
Share your wisdom and know how with Jason...he could use all the help he can get.
![[winking]](http://l.yimg.com/j/assets/img/emoticons/classic/wink.r191677.gif "Winking [winking]")
Yeah, there's zero chance my wife would agree to those terms. I am doing good to sneak off to the basement after the kids go to bed to have a few beers and watch some sports.
I don't know what the hell a fence on the side of a wall is for but it looks pretty. Fences everywhere, I say! Looks neat and manly.
I don't have that problem. The gf knows I pull my weight and more, so she completely understand I need some time to relax and clear my head.
At MM 350 in GA. About 2.5 hours.
I used to have no friends. Never knew why. But I wanted to have friends. In desperation, I decided that my best bet might be down on skid row. Well, that worked for a few days, but alas, after only one week, they told me to get out and never come back. It just so happened that, being an avid UK football fan, I stumbled upon Wildcat Lair. From there I found the Paddock and then the D-League.
Home at last, home at last. Thank God Almighty, I'm home at last.
Sure, hardly anyone responds when I post (and some have me on ignore), but I know it's not personal and doesn't mean anything. Because I know I am loved here - just as I love you guys.
Thank you.
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Got a leak in the jacuzzi tub upstairs somewhere and it's getting on the ceiling downstairs. Do I call a plumber for that or just a general handyman that could fix it and the ceiling?
Achingly long story, but I had to share. Feel free to skip, it won't hurt my feelings.
Well, the impossible happened -- my GD/MFing pool finally brought me some joy.
Yesterday afternoon wifey and I were working ("working" is actually a poor term to use because you can't work on a Sunday because that's a sin and you'll go to hell even if your ox is in a ditch and even if your preacher FIL eats at restaurants on Sundays thereby paying other people to work and thus benefiting from the fruits of their labor but that's not a sin because well just because so let's call not call it "working" k? k... but I digress) in the back yard. I was vacuuming the pool and mentioned -- out loud, yet mainly to myself -- that the pool's inlet nozzle needed adjusting so it directed the water more downward. Wifey immediately pipes up that she'll do it. Uh oh...
Me: That's ok, it's kinda hard to turn
Her: OH YOU THINK I CAN'T TURN A NOZZLE TO SUIT YOU?
Me: No, hunney, it's not that, it's just that it's kinda hard to turn.
Her: FINE. I'm just trying to help (walks off in a huff)
Good friggin' gosh, of all things to get worked up over. Anyways, the thing is hard to turn because (a) when the pump is on there's a lot of force behind the water and since the nozzle tip is threaded it's like trying to finger turn a nut on a lock washer, (b) the dumbass who installed the pool sorta/kinda buggered the threads, and (c) it's on the low end of the pool, so for somebody short, like her, they have to reach up over the pool and then down into the water, thereby making it hard to get any force with your fingertips. Ergo, it's somewhat difficult for a man and nearly impossible for a woman. But she ain't no shirker and BAH GAWD she can do anything a man can do.
I let it pass and go back to vacuuming. After a bit she wanders around towards that area and I casually say "hey, can you go ahead and adjust that nozzle while you're over there? " Tee hee, tee hee. I'm giddy with anticipation.
For once she doesn't smart off with something like "Oh you think I can do it now huh, what changed your mind? " or some bullshit like that. But I know she wants to say it. She needs to say it. I can feel it. It's palpable. But I also know she's thinking that this is her big chance to show me up, so she keeps her mouth shut. But she's gonna show me, dammit. She's gonna prove to me BAH GAWD that she can turn a nozzle to suit me.
Behind my sunglasses I watch her intently. Her hand reaches up and over the wall and as she grasps the nozzle a grimace crosses her face -- she can't turn it. The grimace immediately turns to abject horror because in that instant she realizes she was wrong and, more importantly -- and this is the critical, glorious point -- I. WAS. RIGHT. Oh she'd never admit defeat, of course, nor will she give up, but her stubbornness only sweetens the moment.
For the next 15 minutes I watch in rapt amazement as she vainly struggles to adjust that beautiful, wonderful nozzle. First one hand, then two, pausing between attempts, resting then giving maximum effort only to rest again. Time and time again she strives, yet nothing works. Nothing will work. That nozzle is her master, and she its bitch. I've never loved an inanimate object more deeply. Nay, I've never loved anything as much as I love that nozzle. In fact, I'm going to have it gold-plated (or at least chromed). What a time to be alive.
Finally, body hurting and ego crushed, she walks away mumbling something like "that's as close as I can get it, hope it's enough." "Yeah hon, that should do it. Thanks." Bwaaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa. She didn't even rotate it through one second of arc, and she knows it. She knows she lost. I win, and I silently bask in the victory, my smirking, smug silence being far more gratifying than any words I could utter.
So, after wasting 7ish years, $10,000+ dollars, and literally hundreds of man-hours of precious, irreplaceable free time, that pool -- that worthless, God-forsaken vat of glorified pond scum spawned from the very Devil herself -- finally, FINALLY, lives up to its expectations.
It was worth every f**king penny.
That was beautiful, Mav. You got to experience something that not many married men get to experience. Read the entire damn post and enjoyed it!
![[thumb2]](https://ct.yimg.com/mr/uploads/891/1684387.png "Thumbs Up 2 [thumb2]")
Stopped at exit 312 in Rome Ga. Need some.Zaxbys. Must turn in the car by 3 pm. Still on track for 4 pm.
Achingly long story, but I had to share. Feel free to skip, it won't hurt my feelings.
Well, the impossible happened -- my GD/MFing pool finally brought me some joy.
Yesterday afternoon wifey and I were working ("working" is actually a poor term to use because you can't work on a Sunday because that's a sin and you'll go to hell even if your ox is in a ditch and even if your preacher FIL eats at restaurants on Sundays thereby paying other people to work and thus benefiting from the fruits of their labor but that's not a sin because well just because so let's call not call it "working" k? k... but I digress) in the back yard. I was vacuuming the pool and mentioned -- out loud, yet mainly to myself -- that the pool's inlet nozzle needed adjusting so it directed the water more downward. Wifey immediately pipes up that she'll do it. Uh oh...
Me: That's ok, it's kinda hard to turn
Her: OH YOU THINK I CAN'T TURN A NOZZLE TO SUIT YOU?
Me: No, hunney, it's not that, it's just that it's kinda hard to turn.
Her: FINE. I'm just trying to help (walks off in a huff)
Good friggin' gosh, of all things to get worked up over. Anyways, the thing is hard to turn because (a) when the pump is on there's a lot of force behind the water and since the nozzle tip is threaded it's like trying to finger turn a nut on a lock washer, (b) the dumbass who installed the pool sorta/kinda buggered the threads, and (c) it's on the low end of the pool, so for somebody short, like her, they have to reach up over the pool and then down into the water, thereby making it hard to get any force with your fingertips. Ergo, it's somewhat difficult for a man and nearly impossible for a woman. But she ain't no shirker and BAH GAWD she can do anything a man can do.
I let it pass and go back to vacuuming. After a bit she wanders around towards that area and I casually say "hey, can you go ahead and adjust that nozzle while you're over there? " Tee hee, tee hee. I'm giddy with anticipation.
For once she doesn't smart off with something like "Oh you think I can do it now huh, what changed your mind? " or some bullshit like that. But I know she wants to say it. She needs to say it. I can feel it. It's palpable. But I also know she's thinking that this is her big chance to show me up, so she keeps her mouth shut. But she's gonna show me, dammit. She's gonna prove to me BAH GAWD that she can turn a nozzle to suit me.
Behind my sunglasses I watch her intently. Her hand reaches up and over the wall and as she grasps the nozzle a grimace crosses her face -- she can't turn it. The grimace immediately turns to abject horror because in that instant she realizes she was wrong and, more importantly -- and this is the critical, glorious point -- I. WAS. RIGHT. Oh she'd never admit defeat, of course, nor will she give up, but her stubbornness only sweetens the moment.
For the next 15 minutes I watch in rapt amazement as she vainly struggles to adjust that beautiful, wonderful nozzle. First one hand, then two, pausing between attempts, resting then giving maximum effort only to rest again. Time and time again she strives, yet nothing works. Nothing will work. That nozzle is her master, and she its bitch. I've never loved an inanimate object more deeply. Nay, I've never loved anything as much as I love that nozzle. In fact, I'm going to have it gold-plated (or at least chromed). What a time to be alive.
Finally, body hurting and ego crushed, she walks away mumbling something like "that's as close as I can get it, hope it's enough." "Yeah hon, that should do it. Thanks." Bwaaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa
So, after wasting 7ish years, $10,000+ dollars, and literally hundreds of man-hours of precious, irreplaceable free time, that pool -- that worthless, God-forsaken vat of glorified pond scum spawned from the very Devil herself -- finally, FINALLY, lives up to its expectations.
It was worth every f**king penny.
This brought tears to my eyes. Beautiful. I too once had a pool (but never again). Didn't know you had an ox.
Animals are said to look somewhat like their owners...Captain forehead, do you have a whale pet?
do you own an airplane?
Man, you crack me up.
"You can't unsay what you said." You got that right. I'm having to eat a little crow right now. I will say it's easier to eat while it's still warm.
Shew, finally made it through all the posts. Had a very busy weekend.I logged on here I think for the first time since Friday.
Worked with my cousin on Saturday. We cut down 8 trees on Saturday. Put the limbs through a wood chipper. Ground all the stumps. Sunday I mowed a couple of yards. The second yard was out of control. People on a fixed income. Felt sorry for them. Mowed their lawn last year for free just to help them get it under control again. Their kid has autism. The father is disabled and going to school. Property was out of control and an eye sore. I'm sure all the neighbors appreciate it. What I think should normally take my son and I 30 min or so took about 3 hours the first time.
Worked with my cousin on Saturday. We cut down 8 trees on Saturday. Put the limbs through a wood chipper. Ground all the stumps. Sunday I mowed a couple of yards. The second yard was out of control. People on a fixed income. Felt sorry for them. Mowed their lawn last year for free just to help them get it under control again. Their kid has autism. The father is disabled and going to school. Property was out of control and an eye sore. I'm sure all the neighbors appreciate it. What I think should normally take my son and I 30 min or so took about 3 hours the first time.
**** it...if we are gonna put Ms.Tubman on the twenty then Lloyd deserves the hun...
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Am I gettin warmer?
![[roll]](http://l.yimg.com/j/assets/img/emoticons/classic/roll.r191677.gif "roll [roll]")
Achingly long story, but I had to share. Feel free to skip, it won't hurt my feelings.
Well, the impossible happened -- my GD/MFing pool finally brought me some joy.
Yesterday afternoon wifey and I were working ("working" is actually a poor term to use because you can't work on a Sunday because that's a sin and you'll go to hell even if your ox is in a ditch and even if your preacher FIL eats at restaurants on Sundays thereby paying other people to work and thus benefiting from the fruits of their labor but that's not a sin because well just because so let's call not call it "working" k? k... but I digress) in the back yard. I was vacuuming the pool and mentioned -- out loud, yet mainly to myself -- that the pool's inlet nozzle needed adjusting so it directed the water more downward. Wifey immediately pipes up that she'll do it. Uh oh...
Me: That's ok, it's kinda hard to turn
Her: OH YOU THINK I CAN'T TURN A NOZZLE TO SUIT YOU?
Me: No, hunney, it's not that, it's just that it's kinda hard to turn.
Her: FINE. I'm just trying to help (walks off in a huff)
Good friggin' gosh, of all things to get worked up over. Anyways, the thing is hard to turn because (a) when the pump is on there's a lot of force behind the water and since the nozzle tip is threaded it's like trying to finger turn a nut on a lock washer, (b) the dumbass who installed the pool sorta/kinda buggered the threads, and (c) it's on the low end of the pool, so for somebody short, like her, they have to reach up over the pool and then down into the water, thereby making it hard to get any force with your fingertips. Ergo, it's somewhat difficult for a man and nearly impossible for a woman. But she ain't no shirker and BAH GAWD she can do anything a man can do.
I let it pass and go back to vacuuming. After a bit she wanders around towards that area and I casually say "hey, can you go ahead and adjust that nozzle while you're over there? " Tee hee, tee hee. I'm giddy with anticipation.
For once she doesn't smart off with something like "Oh you think I can do it now huh, what changed your mind? " or some bullshit like that. But I know she wants to say it. She needs to say it. I can feel it. It's palpable. But I also know she's thinking that this is her big chance to show me up, so she keeps her mouth shut. But she's gonna show me, dammit. She's gonna prove to me BAH GAWD that she can turn a nozzle to suit me.
Behind my sunglasses I watch her intently. Her hand reaches up and over the wall and as she grasps the nozzle a grimace crosses her face -- she can't turn it. The grimace immediately turns to abject horror because in that instant she realizes she was wrong and, more importantly -- and this is the critical, glorious point -- I. WAS. RIGHT. Oh she'd never admit defeat, of course, nor will she give up, but her stubbornness only sweetens the moment.
For the next 15 minutes I watch in rapt amazement as she vainly struggles to adjust that beautiful, wonderful nozzle. First one hand, then two, pausing between attempts, resting then giving maximum effort only to rest again. Time and time again she strives, yet nothing works. Nothing will work. That nozzle is her master, and she its bitch. I've never loved an inanimate object more deeply. Nay, I've never loved anything as much as I love that nozzle. In fact, I'm going to have it gold-plated (or at least chromed). What a time to be alive.
Finally, body hurting and ego crushed, she walks away mumbling something like "that's as close as I can get it, hope it's enough." "Yeah hon, that should do it. Thanks." Bwaaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa haaa
So, after wasting 7ish years, $10,000+ dollars, and literally hundreds of man-hours of precious, irreplaceable free time, that pool -- that worthless, God-forsaken vat of glorified pond scum spawned from the very Devil herself -- finally, FINALLY, lives up to its expectations.
It was worth every f**king penny.
Worthy of a Pulitzer Prize.
You are a good American.
Lol classic Mav
I was actually thinking about Mav's pool when 55 showed that pic of his nicely covered pool.
I was actually thinking about Mav's pool when 55 showed that pic of his nicely covered pool.
Well, gents, Operation Lori was a ROARING success. 9:41am, 4/25/2016 is a time and date that will live in infamy. I'm returning to Client Services, Lori is coming from Fast Lab.
Me: How was the vacation, future ex-wifey? (all the while moving closer to the target)
Her: No words spoken, just sticks her tongue out at me, eyes closed.
I moved in for the strike like a cobra nailing a mouse. Kissed her dead on the mouth, letting her tongue slip in between my lips. She was so shocked, she froze, with her tongue STILL in my mouth. When the paralysis went away...
Her: You kissed me!
Me: (with a smirk Snidely Whiplash would be proud of ): Yep. (you younguns might have to Google Snidely Whiplash)
Her: Damn. I didn't know you wanted to do that. But I'm glad you did.
And of course, a couple of co-workers picked THAT time to round the corner.
But with that last statement of hers, things are about to get real interesting
Me: How was the vacation, future ex-wifey? (all the while moving closer to the target)
Her: No words spoken, just sticks her tongue out at me, eyes closed.
I moved in for the strike like a cobra nailing a mouse. Kissed her dead on the mouth, letting her tongue slip in between my lips. She was so shocked, she froze, with her tongue STILL in my mouth. When the paralysis went away...
Her: You kissed me!
Me: (with a smirk Snidely Whiplash would be proud of ): Yep. (you younguns might have to Google Snidely Whiplash)
Her: Damn. I didn't know you wanted to do that. But I'm glad you did.
And of course, a couple of co-workers picked THAT time to round the corner.
But with that last statement of hers, things are about to get real interesting
Ghost, they want to see you in the office.
*By Paddock posts alone, they've got enough to hang you (and the lady) so to speak.
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@wildcatdonf On the train now. Heading to Gannett station. How far are you?
Step 1. Call a plumber
Step 2. Call a handyman to repair the damage the plumber does.
Plumber will likely have to cut a few holes in the drywall to hunt down the source of the leak before he can repair it.
Very VERY dangerous territory that 9/10 times never ends well.
Surprised LEK isn't all over this one. I'd like to see him in action from beginning to end. Someone get him on this....he has me on ignore.
Nevermind...should have read more thoroughly.
@wildcatdonf I'm in front of tje Greyhound bus station. Where are you?
My momma would never screw lids on anything so I'd grab the milk and shake that shit all over myself. Smh.
Why you shake milk?
Why you can't secure the top!?!
Do y'all shake milk? Idk why I do. I shake it and smell it. Every time.
Why you shake milk?
Why you can't secure the top!?!
Do y'all shake milk? Idk why I do. I shake it and smell it. Every time.
smh I knew I shouldn't have said anything...
But, I'm wondering, when the girls had their super secret girls only meeting in 4th grade, were they instructed to never tighten lids?
But, I'm wondering, when the girls had their super secret girls only meeting in 4th grade, were they instructed to never tighten lids?
Indeed.
I haven't had that much fun since I sneaked back into the kitchen and screwed the top of the orange juice bottle on as tightly as I possibly could with a pair of channel locks (I think, but I might have just used grippy shelf liner) after she bitched about me "always screwing lids on too tight" (sic).
I waited until I saw her use the oj and put it back in the fridge, and then waited a little more until she fell asleep. I got the bottle out and twisted that mofo with a death grip. Next day we're both in the kitchen and she can't unscrew the lid...
Her: I can't get this lid off. I don't know why you always screw them on too tight (sic).
Me: (calmly) Well, I think you used it last, remember? Last night when you had a glass before bed?
Her: (stunned silence)
Me:(to myself)
I soooooo love passive aggressiveness.
I see a business opportunity here. "Mav's Marriage Musings", a serial of regular installments in various publications.
One of the great mysteries of life - why the smell of our own farts doesn't bother us much but others' farts can make us gag.
